


How long are you going to stay with me?

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [48]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x4 missing scene, F/M, Morning Sex, Season 8, Sort-of Smut, fluffy and sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 18:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19432000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: “How long are you going to stay with me?” she asked him, expecting a serious answer.





	How long are you going to stay with me?

**Author's Note:**

> I had intended this to be fluffy, but for some odd reason it became a smutty piece.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

“How long are you going to stay with me?” asked Brienne, hoping the magical moment would never end. 

Ever since she had succumbed to Jaime last night, she’d been heady and drunk on him, the effect he had on her strengthening with every passing minute. When he began kissing her again, she lost control of her senses, surrendering to his charm and admiring his beauty as she caught a glimpse of the rays of the morning sun, gently, but intimately caressing his golden mane.

“For the whole of today, definitely,” he rasped, his hand snaking up her ribs as he continued to playfully nibble at her throat, “until I get to know you properly. We’re not leaving this room for the rest of the day, wench,” he decided on her behalf. And again, his mouth got busy, doing better than talking to her as it continued along its path of exploration, leaving a trail of searing, wet kisses wherever it touched her.

Knowing it was Jaime she’d posed her question to, Brienne should’ve expected this, and she did, but there was still a part of her that craved a proper answer, a little corner of her that was disappointed, wishing he’d sensed the depth of her concern instead of trivializing it in a fit of passion.

But then, when had Jaime Lannister ever given her a proper answer to anything?

She sighed into the crook of his neck, inhaling his sweaty scent while absentmindedly licking away a droplet of the salty liquid that clung tantalizingly to his collarbone, deciding to relish the moment that fate had blessed her with than make plans for a future with him, a future she wasn’t even sure she’d be a part of. 

“Gods, wench,” came his lust-ridden response the moment her tongue touched him. “I can’t believe I’ve stayed away from you this long,” he cried, his voice a feral growl that left her gripping his arms in desperation as he pressed his body onto hers. 

Life was now. And _now_ was Jaime, his body sprawled on hers, naked for her to behold, touch and feel and make hers. His mouth feasting on her like he’d never tasted anything this delicious made her feel like the most beautiful creature the gods had created, and his fingers unleashing a storm within her every time they touched the most delicate and sensitive parts of her skin left her shamelessly wishing he had a few more hands to pleasure her with.

Jaime seemed to have read her mind, and what he did next far from disappointed her.

As it turned out, he appeared to be quite masterful in the art of making love, determined to keep the promise he'd made years ago to make her feel like a woman. His mouth moved all over her, more than compensating for the lack of a hand, his teeth tugging at her soft skin, nipping her, covering her with marks and little red patches, while his beard rubbed against the delicate curves of her breasts, leaving her nipples sore and taut and craving for the attention of his tongue.

“How drunk were you last night, Jaime?” she wanted to know, hoping it wasn’t the wine that had made him want her.

“Drunk enough to muster the courage to get this far with you,” he was quick to reply.

“Th--” she stuttered, distracted when his tongue flicked across her nipple, her toes curling in response to the ripples of shock he sent through her core “--this far?” she asked him again, wanting to know what exactly he meant. 

“Hmm,” he rumbled, his mouth continuing to play with her breast. “If it were not for the Dornish courage last night, I’d still be downstairs with Tyrion, whining about my sorrow while you’d be up here with Tormund. I’m sure he’d have made the most of a chance to fuck you into oblivion.” There still was a faint note of jealousy in his voice. Even now, even after he’d made her his.

“If it helps,” Brienne decided to tell him the truth, “I’m not into red-headed wildlings.”

“You’re not,” he breathed into her burning skin, “but you were drunk, wench, and upset with Tyrion’s insolence. What if the fucking wildling had taken advantage of your weak moment?”

“I would never let anyone but you in my bed,” she admitted, sliding her hands up his muscular back and into his gorgeous hair, “not now, not for ever.”

“Nor would I,” he exhaled, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “Gods, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever touched!” 

“Liar,” she chided him, playfully tousling his hair.

“I never lie,” he lied at once, and then went on to correct himself immediately, “not to you, at least.”

Blinded though she was, by lust and her longing for him, in the stray seconds of coherent thinking she could manage in the midst of the sweet torment he was inflicting on her, she couldn’t help wondering what was on his mind. All this affection for her, this desire he exuded in every word and every move - was it in the spur of the moment? Or had his long-dormant feelings for her awakened, uncovering words he’d never said before, things he’d never done so far? Either way, she wanted to know - was it still the effect of the wine, or was it the effect _she_ had on him?

“Are you still--” she had to pause for a gasp when he began sucking her nipple. She arched into him, winding her legs tighter around his ass, pulling him into a death grip.

“--drunk?” he prompted, raising his head to bring it in line with hers. “I’m always drunk in your eyes, Brienne,” he told her seductively, fixing her with a lingering soulful gaze.

She giggled. “First a lie,” she complained, pulling him closer, “and now you’re being terribly dramatic--”

Jaime silenced her with his mouth, pressing his body harder into hers. He stretched her arms over her head, roughly pinning them down with his, proving to her that he was strong enough. The force of his arousal and the sheer masculinity oozing out of every pore of his skin wiped out the last remaining traces of logic from her mind. His rock-hard erection pushed into her thighs, throbbing at her entrance, leaving her wet and aching and impatient for him. All her concerns went flying out of the window when his mouth hungrily devoured hers.

He relinquished custody on her lips, but only for an instant, and only to breathe, taking charge the very next second, giving her no warning when he plunged into her, leaving her gasping into his mouth. And thus began another spell of glorious agony. With every thrust he stepped up the pressure on her arms, his hips pounding into hers, faster and more desperate with each second. All she could do was give in to him, his furious movements leaving her hopelessly struggling against him with no means of escape. All she wanted was to become one with him, and join him she did, move to move, mouth to mouth, body to body, heart to heart and soul to soul.

He gave himself to her with abandon, no inhibitions to hold him back, no alcohol, this time, to support his jittery nerves when he screamed her name, and she took every bit of him until she could take it no more.

“Jaime, I love you,” she moaned her confession before finally dissolving into a helpless puddle under him, shaken and reeling under the shock-waves of pleasure, the effects of which, she was sure, she’d long remember for several days to come.

He rammed into her, flooding her with his seed, bringing their extraordinary dance to a blissful conclusion. Spent, he let go of her arms and slumped into her, his sweat mingling with hers while his mouth found hers again.

“Forever,” Jaime softly mouthed, planting a wet kiss on her lips, his eyes shining with affection when he gazed into hers.

“What was that about?” she asked, slightly puzzled, but mostly muddled, her brain out of order and yet to recover.

“The answer to your question, Brienne, and I need no ale nor wine to admit it this time. I want to stay with you forever.” He sighed softly into her mouth. “Because I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> "How long are you going to stay with me?”  
> "Forever."  
> Gods, these lines make me cry!  
> I cheated and stole a Doctor Who Tenth-Doctor/Rose line and the angst of it just made me want to convert it into JB happiness.
> 
> P.S : I just realized I'm nearing 50 fics in this series :)


End file.
